


Sometimes It's Gonna Rain (Criminal Minds, Rossi/Prentiss)

by tigerlady (shetiger)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, make-up sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-12
Updated: 2010-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shetiger/pseuds/tigerlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a week since the fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes It's Gonna Rain (Criminal Minds, Rossi/Prentiss)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://mingsmommy.livejournal.com/profile)[**mingsmommy**](http://mingsmommy.livejournal.com/) for her donation for [](http://community.livejournal.com/help_pakistan/profile)[**help_pakistan**](http://community.livejournal.com/help_pakistan/). She requested: _Rossi/Prentiss established relationship...but they have a huge fight (you can even break them up if you want). But, of course, they make up/get back together._ Thank you very much, hon. I hope you like this. Thank you to [](http://smittywing.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://smittywing.livejournal.com/)**smittywing** for betaing. :) Title from Ne-Yo's Mad. 3200 words.

There was an envelope on her desk when she returned from the restroom. Not anything from the mail room, for sure; it was an unmarked ecru with a heft to it that spoke of expense. She turned it over carefully, running her thumb under the unsealed edge. The flap was lined with a blue Florentine print. _Predictable_ , she thought, half-fond, half-exasperated, and pushed her thumb and forefinger into the gap.

She blinked at what she pulled out. Instead of a note, there was a single cut-paper rose bud. It was as delicate as lace, and almost as beautiful as the living kind.

"No flowers at the office," she'd told him with a put-upon frown. He'd laughed and said something about her refined taste, and gone back to mouthing at her fingertips while she tried to set out the rules.

 _Cutting it close to the bone, buddy,_ but the thought didn't carry much heat. She didn't have the energy for it, not after a week of going from red-hot to ice-cold again and again. For the first overture since she walked out his office door, it was either too showy or not showy enough, and she couldn't make up her mind which.

There was a thin ribbon of paper twined around the stem of the rose, like a slip from a fortune cookie. As pithy sayings went, it lacked a little in style, but the substance was all she could ask for: _I'm sorry. Can we talk tonight?_

Emily ironed the note flat against the desk with her first two fingers, thinking. A week was a long time. She glanced up and over her shoulder, but Dave's door was closed, and she couldn't tell if he was watching through his blinds. She turned back--and found Derek watching her with big brother eyes.

"Yeah, I hate being a grown-up," she muttered. He snorted softly and, after another loaded look, dropped his gaze. Emily sighed. She'd known how she was going to respond from the first moment she saw the envelope.

If it took her another half an hour to send off the email, well, no one ever said being a grown-up had a set timeline.

*****

"Crap," she said, first thing through her door. Dave would be less than fifteen minutes behind her, she was sure, and her place was, well, not really in a state she wanted him to see it in.

The fuzzy bathrobe dangling off the back of the armchair was the first thing she grabbed. She threw it on her bed, but the huge rust-colored spot across the left pocket reminded her to toss into into the hamper. Tomato soup, great comfort food, not so great as a lap decoration. Emily stripped off her suit and hung it, and and then dropped her blouse in the hamper as well. Then she pulled on a shirt and jeans without much regard for what she'd grabbed out the drawers, caught her hair up into a ponytail, and jogged back out to see to the damage.

The wads of tissue stuffed into the cracks between the couch cushions had to go, even if only one was visible. The soup bowl went into the dishwasher. The pan she'd warmed it in wasn't going to get clean in the time she had, so it went into the sink with a quick shot of hot water. That left half a dozen Chinese take-out containers scattered around the place like Easter eggs, and a pizza box lurking under the coffee table.

She was stuffing her foot into the garbage bag, regretting her decision not to break down the box before she'd shoved it in, when she spotted the bottle of Chianti on the counter. Unopened, forever waiting for its date with the Italian steak that she'd tossed out, raw and spoiling, on Monday.

Emily pulled her foot out of the bag. She shoved the can back under the sink, shut the door, and washed her hands. Then she shuffled over to the couch and dropped down to wait.

*****

"I wanted to bring you something," Dave said as he settled onto the couch, the end closest to her. "But I didn't want to be presumptuous."

"Good call." Emily pulled her feet up under her, tucking her toes into the spot made just for them between the cushion and the arm rest. It was a clearly protective posture, she knew that, but right now she just didn't give a damn. There was only so much you could worry about, dating a profiler, before you went mad trying to control everything you thought, said, and did.

It was easier to be open, scary as that was. It worked well for them--or at least it had until last Friday. Maybe that was why one little fight had hit her so hard.

Or maybe it was just that Dave was an ass.

"You wanted to talk," she reminded him.

He sighed like she was trying his patience. "I do want to talk. But Emily, you've got to give a little, too."

She shook her head. "I'm here, I'm listening, and I want this to work. I need to see some heavy lifting from you now."

"I'm sorry," he said, and she believed him. "I really am. But I don't think that's what you're looking for, is it?"

"It helps." She took a deep breath. "I need to know that you trust me to do my job."

"I do." He frowned down at his laced fingers. "And yes, you were right. When push came to shove, and I didn't have time to think it through, my gut instinct was to keep you out of the line of fire."

She nodded. That hadn't been a question in her mind, but it was good to hear Dave acknowledge it at last. "Reid could have gotten a lot worse than a black eye because of it."

"I still think you underestimate him." Dave held up a hand when she opened her mouth. "And yes, that's getting away from the real issue. I trust you, Emily, I do, to do your job as every bit as capably as any other agent. More, probably. And when my higher brain is in charge, that's never even a question that comes up."

"I want to believe you."

Dave sighed and scooted forward, letting his interlaced fingers drop between his knees. "Holding the team back while I listened to Cyrus beat you was one of the hardest calls I've ever made. But it was the right one."

She had to swallow several times before she could find her voice, and it still came out as barely more than a whisper. "We weren't together then."

"It doesn't matter." His gaze was clear and truthful, but she could see the wrinkles of pain around his eyes. "It was the right call, and I'd make it again. I would."

"Okay," she said after a moment, nodding to herself. "Okay."

He breathed out gustily through his nose. "I need you to trust me to do my job, too, Emily."

She wanted to say she did, put an end to this awful tension between them, but her shoulders still crawled like she had a target on her back and she couldn't let go of her hands wrapped around her knees. "I do," she finally said, "but it's going to take time to trust that you can do it when it comes to me."

"I know." He took another long breath. "Would it be better if I wasn't in the picture?"

Emily's gut clenched up so hard she thought she might puke from the pain, like she used to from the ulcer she'd given herself back in college. "What are you saying?" she whispered.

His brow wrinkled, then cleared with understanding. "I don't mean break up," he said urgently. "Unless that's what you--"

"No!" she said. "Dave, I-- You know I don't."

"Thank God." He smiled at her, and she realized it was the first time she'd felt that warmth in a week. It started to loosen something within her, enough that she didn't feel the need to hang onto herself quite so tightly. She stayed curled in the chair, though, waiting for him to explain what he meant.

"So...?"

"I meant retire," he said. "There's no reason for me to stay, other than I love the work. If it'd be easier for us, then I think maybe it's something I should do."

"I--" Emily sucked in a breath, then shook her head. The thought hit her almost as hard as the possibility of breaking up, but she wasn't sure if it was because she needed security right now or if the thought of not having Dave beside her at work every day just scared her that much. "Do you want to retire?" she asked carefully, because despite his offer, the decision shouldn't really be about her.

Dave shrugged. "I still enjoy it. But I enjoyed myself when I had the time to write and do whatever I wanted. I'm not one of those 'work right up to the death bed' kind of guys."

"Thank God for that," Emily muttered.

Dave snorted.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're not just saying that because it's easier to retire than to deal with me at work, are you?"

Dave laughed, a great big surprised bark. She wanted to be annoyed at his reaction, but a smile was fighting to get out. "Oh, Emily," he said, shaking his head. "I don't understand your brain at all sometimes. You are my favorite thing about going in to the office every day, and not just because I love you. It is a joy to work with you."

The tears came, then. She did her best to ignore them, and Dave was smart enough not to comment. "Thank you," she said. She tried to sniffle softly, but something went wrong on the inhale that produced a loud, ripping noise that sounded more like a fart than a snore. She grabbed for her nose, horrified.

Dave's cheeks sucked in, like he was biting at them to keep from laughing.

She chuckled. Dave let a smile slip through, and then he started laughing. That got her going, too, and she laughed the entire time she was up to find the box of tissues. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose--after she'd calmed down enough not to suck the paper back down into her lungs--and walked back into the living room feeling a hell of a lot lighter.

She tossed the box of tissues at Dave. "Here. You can hold these, since you're the reason I keep needing them."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

She waved him off as she sat back down, on the other end of the couch from him this time. Still not touching, but she felt a lot closer to wanting to. He shifted so that he was more-or-less facing her, and she found a smile for him. "I like working with you, too." She took a deep breath and then forced out the truth. "I'd rather you didn't retire right now. I know that it's going to happen one of these days, but I'd prefer it to be later, not sooner."

Dave nodded. "Okay. I just wanted to make sure you knew it was an option." He looked down to his hands, then slowly back up to her. It almost made him look...not coy, but not devilish either. Something in between. "It would make it a lot easier to marry you, though."

"Dave." She touched her throat, but that didn't help her get air. "You don't mean that."

"That I want to marry you? Absolutely, I do." He smiled sadly. "But I don't think you're ready to talk about that yet."

She shook her head minutely. It was all too much, after a week of being wound tighter than steel on a guitar, and she felt shocky. She reached for a tissue, not because she was crying but because she needed something to do, and that's when she noticed her hands were shaking.

She never shook.

"Hey," Dave said, touching two fingers against her hand. "I shouldn't have brought it up. Forget I said anything."

"Easier said than done," she muttered.

Dave sighed.

"You were a dick," she said.

Dave nodded. "I know."

"Don't be that big of a dick, ever again."

"I won't," he promised.

"You better not be," she said, and then she surged away from her seat, practically flinging herself at him. He somehow got his arms up and open in time to cradle her against him, pulling her in for a tight hug that made her want to cry all over again, this time from relief. She didn't, though, squeezing her eyes tight against the rush of emotion as she breathed him in.

"I missed you," he said into her shoulder. "So much, Emily. You have no idea."

"I think I have a little bit of an idea." She turned her head so she could rub her face against the soft scruff of his goatee. It was natural to find his mouth after that, and to open to his deepening kiss. "I missed this," she said softly after he pulled back. "Connecting with you like this."

"I couldn't think about anything but you," Dave said. He ran his fingers through her hair, combing it back and away from her face. "It was a damn good thing we weren't in the field this week. I'd have gotten the job done, but I'm not sure how."

"I know exactly what you mean." She gasped as he sucked her earlobe, then gently bit it. Ten minutes ago, she would have laughed him out the door if he even suggested more than a hug, but now she needed him. Badly. The small discs of plastic were slippery and uncooperative under her fingernails as she tried to unbutton his shirt, but she kept working at them without looking down, too caught up in kissing Dave to break away for even a moment. Then his fingers were twining between hers, not so much taking over as giving the assist. They got his shirt off, and then together pulled hers over her head.

"Oh, God," she gasped when he leaned down and found her nipple through her bra. It hardened under his tongue immediately, and then he started sucking. Emily arched back, shoving her breasts forward for more. His hand was rough on her other breast, kneading like she liked it when she was right on the edge. Or during make-up sex, apparently, because it was _so_ working for her right now. It wasn't long before she felt like she could come just from him playing with her nipples--except she couldn't, ever. She always needed more.

"Dave," she said, breathy and soft. Too soft to be taken as an actual request, apparently, because Dave just kept sucking. She ground down hard against his cock, and when he raised his head in appreciation, pushed back on his shoulder. "Now," she said, climbing off of his lap.

"You want to go--" he started, but stopped when she shook her head.

"Pants off," she ordered as she unzipped her own. "Now."

"Yes'm." He looked like he was trying for a naughty-boy grin, but it was too wide and sincere to be anything but pure happiness. Emily couldn't move for a moment, the ache of the past week pressing hard at her sternum. She forced air in, pushing away the anger and regret, and let it all go as she pushed her pants and panties down her legs. Dave had his belt undone, fly open, and was lifting up to push his pants and boxers off his hips. She straddled him before the cloth was clear of his thighs.

"Just give me a second," he said, but she just urged him back against the arm of the couch. He was still shifting around when she grabbed his cock, gave it a couple of strokes, and then held it in position as she sank down. "Mother of God, _Emily_."

"Flatterer," she gasped out. She was turned on as hell, yeah, but it'd been more than a week since she'd even thought about sex, and her muscles weren't nearly as warmed up as she was. But they unclenched, just like that, and oh, God, it felt good. Crazy good.

She started moving in a slow rise and fall. Dave's hands were on her ass, taking some of her weight, but the show was all hers. She couldn't look away from his eyes as she moved. It scared her sometimes, how much love she could see there, especially when it didn't negate the power he had to hurt her. But there was vulnerability, too. She could hurt him just as easily.

 _Love is mutually-assured destruction,_ she thought, and then snorted at the cynicism of it. Dave raised his eyebrow and pulled her hips down as he ground up into her. Emily groaned. "Yeah," she said, done with thinking. "Now. Touch me."

Dave brought his right hand around and found her clit with his thumb. She rocked against him, leaning back so that his cock stroked against her just right. It didn't take long before she was coming, back curling with the strength of it.

"That's it, there you go," Dave murmured. Emily let herself enjoy the last shudders of her orgasm, and then she pulled off.

"You're too much for me," she teased. He smiled at her--until she wrapped her hand around his cock and started stroking. Maybe a little fast to start, but he wasn't complaining. Emily pressed a kiss to his open mouth, giggling a little when he lacked the coordination to return it. She sped up again, and then Dave came with a long, deep groan.

"I love you so much." Dave pulled her into an awkward hug, and Emily laughed, rubbing her face against his sweaty chest. His answering chuckle sent a tickle through her cheekbones, and she retaliated by twitching her fingers into his ribs. Which only made him laugh more, of course, which made her laugh more, too.

"Not destruction," she said. It was one of those giddy revelations that might not make sense later, but right now she was swept away with the rightness of it. She mouthed at his chest, then sat up and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Not destruction at all."

Dave's eyebrows lifted. "I don't think I remember the start to that conversation."

Emily shook her head and smiled. "Never mind."

"You sure?"

"It's good, don't worry." She twisted around until they were in a semi-comfortable snuggle. They'd have to get cleaned up soon, and her bed was going to feel like a California king after being squashed together, but right now she just didn't want to move. She laced her fingers through Dave's, bringing their hands together so she could stare at her left hand. "Just... When it's time, you'd better ask me right."

Emily felt the clench of Dave's body as he sucked in a breath. He let it go quickly, then pressed his lips to her ear. "I will," he said. "I promise."

"Good," she said, and let the smile take over her face.

END


End file.
